Through the Long March, I Carried a Modern Warehouse on My Back

Chen Ken, a warehouse manager in an old state-owned factory. On the last night before he was laid off, during a thunderstorm, the back wall of the warehouse "melted". On the other side of the wall is the foot of Jiajin Mountain in 1935. Twenty-three ragged Red Army soldiers had no food for three days and gnawed tree bark. One little soldier named Zhuzi had a high fever. Chen Ken threw over an old military coat. Then he discovered that every time he sent a material, he would forget a memory of his own. Mother's number, date of enlistment, own name... Forget one thing and live another. "What I forgot is my own business. They will die if they forget the salty taste." Fifty pounds of industrial coarse salt was exchanged for a bowl of pickle soup. A Jiangxi veteran cried and said: "My mother wanted to eat something salty before she died." Hundreds of pairs of expired cold-proof boots were exchanged for a pair of frostbitten feet. The old squad leader said: "You are only seventeen and I am thirty-five. If you freeze your toes off, you won't delay eating." Compressed biscuits, plastic films, solar lights... He emptied the entire warehouse. I also forgot about myself. —— Many years later, a memorial hall was built in Jiajin Mountain. The construction team dug out a remains under the glacier. There was an enamel cup next to it, which was printed with "State-owned Hongfeng Machinery Factory". There was a list of twenty-three names pressed into the cup. The last page read: "I'm here to deliver something. Delivery finished." He doesn't know his name. But the whole mountain knew that someone had been here.